Fast Forward
by sono spiacente
Summary: Lavi/Allen ჯ I need someone to keep me from spinning out of control. Spoilers.


**Author's Notes:** Hoshino Katsura owns 'em, I just play with 'em. The lyrics at the beginning are from Emmy Rossum's "Slow Me Down", a song I highly recommend!

* * *

_the noise of the world is getting me caught up  
chasing the clock and i wish i could stop it  
just need to breathe, somebody please  
slow me down_

* * *

A million years ago, Allen was a child.

There was a time when he was small and simple, when all that mattered to him was Mana's smile. And perhaps his moments of happiness had been few and far between, but they were _there_, and there was something idyllic in the memory.

It was a million years ago, though, and now Allen is a child no longer. It seems that he's grown up in the last few days, the last few months, maybe faster than he's ever grown up before. He grew up fast when he was cursed, when he learned how to endure the deep suffering of an Akuma's soul – when he joined the Order – when Tyki reached into his body and tried to rip out his heart, he'd thought that was growing up, but that was nothing.

Nothing forces change like seeing one of your closest friends self-immolate to protect you.

Allen's thoughts were disjointed. It was strange – he was used to being the articulate one of the Order, or at least it seemed that way in the face of Lavi's careless language and Kanda's reticence. But now .. nothing made sense.

"Spill it," Lavi said, sliding into the pew behind him. Allen felt him kneel, his forearms resting on the back of the bench. "You've been actin' weird ever since we got back. What gives?"

"I—nothing," Allen said, because it's all he _can_ say. Lavi may have been an Exorcist, a Bookman, a friend, but there were some things not meant to be shared. "I'm all right, just a bit shellshocked."

"I've seen you shellshocked, Allen." Lavi shifted, brought himself closer to Allen. "For you, shellshocked is sort of shaken, maybe a little weepy. Sometimes, if it's a big deal, you skip a meal—which is rare. This isn't shellshocked. So what's up?"

Allen considered this question for a long, silent moment. What was there for him to say? _I hate that you almost died to save me. I don't know how to feel or what to think anymore. Everything's moving too fast and I can't do anything to stop myself from spinning out of control._ "I'm all right," he repeated, tucking one knee up to his chest and resting his chin on it. "It's .. complicated. And confusing."

Lavi's hand found his shoulder, a warm and reassuring pressure. "You feel guilty," Lavi said, in one of his rare moments of piercing insight. "Is that it?"

Allen flushed and looked away, a small gesture but clear as a bell. After a second, he felt Lavi's chin rest on his shoulder, and the warmth of Lavi's breath ghosting across his cheek. "If you want other people t'forgive you," he said, his voice a deep rumble against Allen's back, "you have to learn to forgive yourself."

Lavi pressed his lips gently against the space between Allen's jaw and ear, and then pulled back. A few moments later, Allen heard the muted _click_ of the chapel door closing, and he raised a hand unconsciously to the side of his face, pressing his fingers against the spot that Lavi's lips had touched. A kiss .. and such kind words. Not that Lavi was unkind, normally, but he wasn't the type to offer such advice.

Allen stayed in the chapel for a long time, after that.

* * *

The next time he saw Lavi, he was in the dining room, flirting indiscriminately with one of the techs from the science division. Allen paused at the doorway, watching the scene; it was interesting, he thought, that despite the frequency and variety of Lavi's conquests, none of them ever resulted in anything. It wasn't as though Lavi was unattractive – quite the opposite, frankly – and he was charismatic enough. So why was it that all of the girls he flirted with never came back to make good on his promises?

Shaking his head and suppressing a smile, Allen approached Lavi's table. "Can we talk for a moment?" he asked, sitting down opposite Lavi.

"Sure thing, beansprout," Lavi replied, his eyes not wavering from where his gaze was trained on the retreating girl's back. "What's up?"

"I just .. wanted to thank you," Allen said, taking advantage of Lavi's distraction to observe his features. Lavi had precarious features, somewhere between soft European and feminine Slavic; it was strangely fitting, considering that he wasn't rooted to any one place in particular. And he was strangely beautiful, in a sharp-featured, masculine way. Allen didn't think he had ever seen Lavi like this, before.

"For what?" Lavi asked, finally turning his attention to the conversation at hand. Allen flushed and ducked his head, suddenly self-conscious under the weight of Lavi's gaze.

"The other day, in the chapel," Allen replied, studying a stain on the tabletop. "For .. what you said. I thought about it, and .. you're right. I was blaming myself."

From the corner of his eye, Allen could see the brilliant grin that Lavi shot in his direction. "Toldja," he said, but his voice was gentle. "That's good, beansprout."

Allen took a deep breath and looked up at Lavi, focusing, because of anything he'd ever said he wanted _this_ to matter the most. "But," he said, and was almost surprised by the sudden ferocity in his own voice, "_never_ do that to me again. Stay alive, dammit, okay? Promise me."

Lavi's expression went surprised for a moment, and then fond, and then into some soft expression that Allen couldn't quite understand. "I don't want to make promises I can't keep," he said quietly, and Allen understood, of course – they were all the same, in that regard – but the words still stung.

"I – " he began. "You – "

But the words wouldn't come.

Disconcerted – it was, after all, the second time in so many weeks that Allen had found himself choking on words – Allen stood up and all but ran away from the table. He could hear Lavi calling something behind him (probably his name) but didn't stop to listen; instead, he darted up the stairs, past his room and to the highest balcony that the Order headquarters had to offer, so vertigo-inducing that it was practically Allen's personal hideout.

It wasn't raining, not yet, but the air outside the tower was heavy with incipient moisture. The clouds hung dark and gunmetal-grey, promising – no, _threatening_ a deluge during the night. Allen halfway wanted it to rain now; at least then, the weather would match his mood, torrential and chaotic.

The problem was, he didn't _understand_. Allen was used to not understanding the world at large, but not understanding _himself_ was new. He couldn't explain why Lavi's refusal to promise had hurt him so deeply – he didn't understand his own dedication to keeping his fellow Exorcist alive, and he didn't understand why it had to be Lavi in the first place.

"Damn," Allen said, leaning forward on the rail.

There was a footstep behind him, and then warm arms encircled him, pulling his back against an unyielding torso. Allen stiffened, but then a familiar voice spoke, relieving him of his fears. "You're such a fool," Lavi said, his chin resting in the curve where Allen's neck met his shoulder. "Y'think I don't want t'be able to promise that, beansprout? Y'think I wouldn't, if I could?"

"Lavi – " Allen began, trying to turn to face Lavi – but those strong arms kept him in place.

"I want t'be able t'tell you that and mean it, beansprout, but fact is, when this war is over I'm leavin' and I'm not comin' back. And I can't promise that I'll be okay beyond this – I can't even promise I'll make it t'the end, so you're gonna have t'accept that all I can do is promise that I'll try. I'll _try_, dammit, beansprout! Isn't that enough?"

"_Lavi,_" Allen said, turning with such force that Lavi had to allow it. "That's all I want. Thank you."

When Lavi kisses him, it isn't a surprise. In fact, it feels a lot like a long time coming – like something that had been waiting to happen forever and hadn't found an outlet. And Allen kisses back, tries to give everything he knows to Lavi – his fear and trust and uncertainty and hope, and when they pull apart, it's not miraculous. The clouds are still gunmetal-grey, the air still damp, but between them in that moment there was a moment of calm, the eye of the storm, and Allen thought that maybe things would be all right.


End file.
